


Didn't Work So Great For Him

by onward_came_the_meteors



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Tower, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Feels, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Suicide, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, One Shot, POV Third Person, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Tony Stark, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onward_came_the_meteors/pseuds/onward_came_the_meteors
Summary: “They cut you open, your heart stopped.”“Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn’t work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”-Natasha Romanoff and Nick Fury, Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)Bruce is working on something in the labs. Tony gets worried.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Didn't Work So Great For Him

_ “They cut you open, your heart stopped.” _

_ “Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn’t work so great for him, but we found a use for it.” _

* * *

The elevator doors opened and Tony Stark stepped out onto the floor that was ninth-from-the-top of Avengers Tower. There was a folded-up waffle in his hand that he was absentmindedly eating, and JARVIS’s voice echoed from the ceiling as the A.I. finished giving him the progress update on the latest changes he was making to the Iron Man suit.

“I estimate it will take another half hour to synchronize all the upgrades,” JARVIS concluded. “That should give you plenty of time to read the latest emails from--”

Tony grinned around another bite of waffle as he continued down the hallway. “Come on, J, I think you know me better than that.”

“Very well, sir.” There was a tone to it that had Tony imagining that JARVIS would be sighing if he could.

He reached the right door at last--the one with the neat little “Do Not Enter” sign that he cheerfully ignored--and walked inside the lab. Well, one of the labs. There were an assortment in the Tower, but this one was his personal favorite, because of its proximity to the balcony and its occupant.

Bruce Banner was standing at one of the desks several rows away from the door, a swivel chair abandoned a few feet away. He was poring over what looked like readings from a scanner that was beeping softly every few seconds, so absorbed that he didn’t see Tony until he had snuck all the way over from the door, around the desks, behind the screens (which, considering they were holographic and see-through, was an accomplishment), and up behind him to tap him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Banner, whatcha working on?”

It was a statement to how long Bruce had been living in the Tower that he didn’t jump. “Hey, Tony,” was all he said instead, sparing him a quick glance before going back to the notes he was typing. “Just that thing I was talking to you about last night.”

Tony frowned and pulled up the swivel chair to lean on. His memories of the previous night were very vague and seemed to include watching schematics of different parts of the suit until his eyes blurred, DUM-E flying into a wall, and eventually flopping on the lab couch with Bruce as they discussed experiments that had them laughing their heads off from sheer sleep deprivation until they ended up passing out on said couch. He’d woken up the next morning surrounded by scribbled-on scraps of paper that said things like “Captain America’s shield but square.”

“Yeah, we said a lot of things last night.” Tony finished his waffle. It would have been better with chocolate chips, but that was the hazard of sharing a living space with a bunch of superhumans. “Bring me up to speed?”

Bruce finally looked up from what he was working on, tapping “pause” on the scanner. “Well, basically,” he started. “You remember a week ago when we were talking about ways to suppress, ah, the Other Guy?”

_ So we’re back onto this again, are we.  _ Tony had thought he’d ended the conversation on a marginally better note, switching the topic to how they could better reinforce places like the labs or the quinjet just in case and hey, did you ever think about finding a way to make coms that wouldn’t fall out the minute of a transformation, because wouldn’t  _ that  _ be useful in a fight? He’d  _ thought  _ Bruce had bought it, maybe even been slightly more reassured… but apparently not, because here they were.

“I recall,” Tony said carefully. “You wanted to see if you could regulate the release of catecholamines--”

“--and decrease amygdala activity, yeah,” Bruce finished. “But we were just looking at the brain then, which made sense at the time because that’s where emotions are processed, right, but I got to thinking--what if it’s even simpler than that?”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Pepper’s got some great meditation podcasts--”

“My heart rate, Tony.” Bruce’s eyes flicked to the side as a notification popped up on the computer screen to his left. He paused to click at it, leaving Tony to drum his fingers on the soft back of the swivel chair and think about what he could say to this.

It wasn’t that he didn’t support Bruce--the floors of fully stocked labs should’ve been enough of a testament to that--and of  _ course  _ he wanted him to be happy, because god knew the guy hadn’t had nearly enough of that in his life, but he still found it hard to nod along whenever Bruce talked about “curing” himself. Not when the Avengers were a thing and the Hulk had saved his actual life and there was even now a YouTube video going viral of Clint showing the Hulk how to high-five (Bruce had put on a show about the risks or whatever once he’d transformed back and Natasha had showed him, but Tony hadn’t missed the quirk of a smile that had absolutely definitely crossed his face for a half second).

Tony peered over at the equipment piled around Bruce’s station, his brow furrowing. “Dude, trust me on this one; you do not want to mess around with your heart.”

“I’m not messing around. Here.” Bruce pulled up a sheet of data on the nearest screen. Tony stepped closer to read it. “It’s a sodium channel blocker that should result in mild hypotensive symptoms and hopefully slow my pulse enough to prevent a transformation.” He pointed at several spots on the screen. “JARVIS ran some simulations and it’s as ready as it’s ever going to be… this could really  _ work,  _ Tony.”

Tony turned away from the screen. “And I’m assuming you already developed it?” Bruce’s silence was enough of an answer. “So, what, was it going to be all-systems-go before I walked in? Because in that case I think you might need a refresher course on high school lab safety.”

“If I may, sir, Doctor Banner asked me to supervise him while he administered the suppressant,” JARVIS spoke up.

Bruce’s hands flew up in a too-late gesture of silence as Tony fixed him with a look.

“Taking that as a yes. Really, buddy, where is the trust?”

“I didn’t want anyone in the room with me.” Bruce reached out to fiddle with one of the knobs on the scanner that didn’t really need to be fiddled with. “I’d feel bad enough about trashing your labs.” A rueful smile that disappeared as quickly as it came.

Tony snorted. “So what? I trash my labs so often I’ve practically invented my own kind of insurance. You should get Rhodey to tell you about the sonic cannon; I was honestly too drunk to remember.” He tilted his head so it eclipsed Bruce’s view of the computer screen. “But who doesn’t love some good old-fashioned human testing?”

Bruce lifted his eyebrows. “You do realize I’m literally the only person on Earth who can test this, right?”

“Well, there’s no need to get a big head about it.” Tony paused. “We can ponder that later. The point is, nobody wants you to be your own lab rat, everybody wants to keep the Hulk around, or at least people with taste, and I might add that you two are kinda a package deal.” He clapped his hands together and didn’t wait for Bruce to protest. “Glad we’re in agreement, then. You wanna go see if my suit upgrades finished downloading yet? I’ll let you help with the demonstration as long as I get to push the shiny button.” He straightened up and took a step backward, gesturing for Bruce to follow him.

Unfortunately and predictably, Bruce remained exactly where he was.

“Tony, I’m not going to just shove this in a drawer and walk away.”

“I mean, we can open negotiations for who gets to push the button if--”

“This could be the thing that actually works.” The light in Bruce’s eyes was almost painfully hopeful, and Tony swallowed. “It could stop so many people from getting hurt, and I know you like to brush over that, but it’s true. You talk about how you’re saving the world all the time, this is just another way to do that.”

“You already save the world, big guy. In both sizes.” He heard Bruce’s scoff and pressed on. “Come on, you can’t pretend you aren’t as much of a hero as we are; otherwise they wouldn’t put you on the lunchboxes. Whether you wanna admit it or not, you signed up to stop Loki same as the rest of us.”

Bruce folded his hands together. “Tell me how exactly S.H.I.E.L.D. got you to sign up?”

“Agent Agent showed up at the Tower and interrupted my date night, I think I’ve told you this be--”

“Yeah. And for me, they had a gun to my head. Literally,” Bruce said with a shrug. “It’s obvious what S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks of me, what Natasha still thinks of me, what everybody else should think for their own self-preservation.” The last part was accompanied by him looking pointedly at Tony, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, not really one of my strong suits.” Tony glanced at the screen again before his eyes flicked back to Bruce. Whatever that scanner was doing, it was almost done. “The thing you’re not getting is that people change. S.H.I.E.L.D. changed, the team changed, and  _ he  _ changed too.” He poked Bruce in the chest. “Tiny bit.”

Bruce stepped out of reach of Tony’s hand. “Not good enough.”

“So maybe it takes some time.”

“There’s not enough time in the world for that much of a change.”

“Twenty bucks.” Tony grinned, but it slipped off his face quickly when he saw Bruce wasn’t returning it. He tapped his fingers on the lab table absently; a tune that was stuck in his head but without any of the words. “So, this Hulk suppressant. This hypothetical Hulk suppressant that a couple of hypothetical guys might be hypothetically creating in a hypothetical lab in a superhero headquarters. It wouldn’t let you change even if you--bear with me--wanted to? Such as, if you were in immediate physical danger?”

“Isn’t that why I have Iron Man around to protect me?” Bruce’s attempt was weaker than normal; he was clearly distracted by the beeping coming from the scanner that Tony was still standing firmly in front of.

“Say it’s a bank holiday and he’s off shift.”

“I mean, no. That’s kind of the idea,” Bruce said. “No changing. Period.”

“No matter what?"

“No matter--what are you getting at?”

Tony stared at the ceiling for a while. One of the hanging lights was dimmer than the others. Or maybe it was his angle. “I just want to make sure the plan here isn’t to do something else.” He made eye contact with Bruce again, and at least the man had the decency not to pretend he didn’t know what he was talking about. For a person with seven PhDs, that would’ve just been embarrassing. 

It was Bruce’s turn to roll his eyes and try to laugh it off, but there was a bit of a strained quality to his voice as he said, “Is that really how it is? You admit to attempting suicide  _ one time _ while under the influence of alien mind magic and suddenly that’s all anyone ever--”

“Yeah, because it’s a big fucking deal, Banner!” Tony burst out. He raked a hand through his hair. “I mean, everyone knows I’m a complete human disaster waiting to happen and in no way the ideal role model for a healthy lifestyle, but at least I’ve never tried to  _ kill myself _ \--”

“No, you’re just overly willing to let other things do it for you.” Bruce added something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like the word “palladium.”  _ He’s being very unfairly defiant--since when is he allowed to do that? _

Tony shoved his hands back in his pockets with more effort than it should’ve taken. “I think there’s a  _ slight  _ bit of difference between accepting a terminal diagnosis--”

“That is not at all how Natasha told it--”

“--and putting a fucking gun to my head, can you really not see where I might be concerned? Especially for my favorite lab partner?”

The scanner gave a final, longer, beep and Bruce’s head snapped back to the readings. “Listen,” he said, reaching out to press something on the machine’s side. “Not that I don’t appreciate it. But the suppressant is ready and your favorite--and only--lab partner is telling you there’s nothing to worry about.” 

Tony had to step to the side as Bruce pressed the release; there was a  _ hiss _ as a small canister was ejected, filled about three-quarters of the way with a colorless liquid.

He watched as the liquid was transferred into a syringe that had been lying on the lab table on a paper towel, as Bruce rolled up his sleeve.

Bruce stopped just after positioning the syringe in front of his arm, looking up at Tony as though waiting for him to keep arguing. But short of knocking the thing out of his hand, Tony really wasn’t sure there was anything else he could even do.

_ Besides, this is a good thing. Most people--including several of both of our closest friends, the shadowy government organization that keeps tabs on all of us totally in a non-creepy way, and most of the population of New York City if not just “the population,” period--would see this as a net positive. Bruce can relax and live his life. Everybody gets a pat on the back. _

No matter how much he tried to convince himself, though, he still couldn’t stop the twist in his stomach as Bruce pricked his forearm with the needle and injected the suppressant. He watched as the liquid slowly drained out from the syringe, and only when it was empty did he let out a breath.

Bruce set the empty syringe in a box on the table and lifted his head to the ceiling. “JARVIS, heart rate?”

“Seventy-three beats per minute, Doctor Banner.”

Bruce nodded. “Okay. Tony, do you still have that--” He mimed holding an object and poking at the air with it. “--electrical prod you try to zap me with all the time?”

“For the record,  _ I _ only zapped you with it once.” Tony studied Bruce carefully for another moment before spinning around and rifling through a nearby drawer. He had a feeling that Bruce choosing this particular item was more to prove a point that Tony would have one on hand than for any scientific reasons. “I have no control over what the bots decide to do when they’re bored--oh, here we go.”

He flipped the prod in the air and caught it by the handle, something he  _ probably  _ shouldn’t have done, but he’d gotten shocked in one way or another more times than he could count, whether it was as Iron Man, getting too close to something in the workshop, or including Thor in the group hugs. “So. What are we doing with this?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Bruce said. “I’m going to try to create the circumstances for a transformation--which hopefully won’t be happening--and you’re going to wait in the hall.” His expression said very clearly that he did not expect that to happen in the slightest, but he took the prod from Tony and fiddled with the frequency instead of looking at him.

“Sorry, big guy, I don’t think doctor-patient confidentiality counts when the doctor and the patient are the same person,” Tony said. 

“If I do transform--”

“Honestly, Bruce, I’m starting to think you don’t enjoy my company.” They held each other’s gazes for a beat, then two, and then Bruce sighed and Tony thought,  _ Score. _

“Can you have the suit on standby at least?”

“Sure thing. Actually, I’ll do you one better--J, can we get lockdown mode in here? Thanks so much, you’re the best.”

JARVIS complied, reinforced metal sliding down in front of all of the windows and doors, locking into place in a few smooth moments. A mechanical whirring sound preceded the Iron Man armor rising out of the wall, its helmet open and hollow.

“This good?” Tony asked. He paused, unable to resist adding: “You’re good?”

“Yeah. Are you ready?”

“Should be asking you that question. You’re the one who’s getting zapped with-- _ how  _ many volts did you just set that to?”

“It has to be high, that’s the only way to--”

“Right, right. Are you doing it or do you want me to?”

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?”

“If you mean I sound like a group of middle schoolers camping in the backyard who are deciding who should investigate the scary noise, then yes, I do have an idea.”

“You said it, not me. And I’ll do it.”

Faster than Tony had expected, Bruce switched the prod on and pressed it to his neck. He jumped the second it touched him, his eyes widening and his mouth slamming shut to prevent whatever noise he’d been about to make, but he couldn’t stop his arm from jerking out and grabbing the table or the full shudder running through his body before he finally pulled it away.

Without a hint of green.

Tony’s hands had been twitching at his sides the entire time--it had only lasted for maybe a second, how had it felt so long?--and once the prod was turned off, he tried to peer over to see Bruce’s neck.

Bruce leaned away and addressed the ceiling again. “JARVIS?” Tony wondered if he knew his fist was clenched.

The A.I.’s voice was as calm as ever as he delivered the information. “Your heart rate remains at seventy-three beats per minute, Doctor Banner. In fact, it had been beginning to lower before you shocked yourself.”

Bruce’s face didn’t change right away. It happened in increments, going from wariness to surprise to confusion to, slowly… a smile split across his face. “Wow,” was all he said at first, putting a hand to his chest. “Wow, I--I can’t believe it, I--” He pulled his hand away and stared at it as though to make sure it hadn’t changed color. “It worked.”

“And you’re sure you’re feeling okay?” Tony asked. He couldn’t deny that he was relieved for once not to have a Hulk-out on their hands, if only because he would have to deal with a devastated Bruce after the fact, and the scientist part of him was already buzzing with wanting to test and analyze and improve--he was sure Bruce was thinking the same thing--but he had also just seen, in very quick succession, his friend shoot himself up with an untested substance and then give himself an electric shock severe enough to make Captain America flinch.

Bruce looked up at him, and his eyes were brighter than Tony had ever seen them. “I’ve never been better.”

* * *

Later that night, Tony was flicking through TV channels--well, he was having JARVIS flick through TV channels, but somebody tall had put the remote on the top of the shelf again and even though he  _ could  _ have used the Iron Man boots, he kinda wasn’t in the mood after six (seven?) hours straight in the lab--and finally reading the emails from earlier. “Reading” in this context meant that he opened three of them and answered one--the one from Pepper--with a “come home” and a frowny face.

Somewhere behind him, he heard the sound of footsteps. Without looking up, he said, “Hey, there’s a Star Trek on if you wanna watch.”

Bruce appeared around the side of the couch, still wearing his lab coat. He eyed the TV and shook his head. “It’s not one of the good ones. And I’m kinda tired tonight anyway.”

Tony swiped down on his phone to see the time and frowned. “Really?”

“Yeah. Long day.” Bruce blinked into space for a few moments before heading back out of the living room. “‘Night, Tony.”

“‘Night,” Tony replied absentmindedly as he marked another email as read. A few minutes later, he set his phone down and peered over the back of the couch. Bruce had already left, and there was a worried feeling poking at him.

He got up and followed in the direction Bruce had gone, out of the living room and into the elevator. He hummed something disjointed as he waited for the elevator to stop, and then he walked out into the hallway and down to Bruce’s room.

The door was half open, which was unusual. Privacy was a valuable commodity in the Tower. Tony approached as softly as he could and stuck his head through the open gap.

The light was still on, illuminating Bruce, who was passed out on the bed with the side of his face pressed into the pillow and his clothes still on--minus the lab coat, which was folded over the back of a chair. One of his dresser drawers was open, like he’d been intending to change into pajamas, but apparently he hadn’t made it.

“Huh.” The sound escaped Tony’s mouth before he remembered to be quiet. Luckily, Bruce didn’t seem to have noticed, still completely and utterly asleep. 

Tony watched him for a minute, a frown working its way onto his face, before it seemed clear that Bruce was officially down for the count. “Hey, JARVIS, could you hit the lights?”

“Of course, sir.” The light flicked off a second later, causing Tony to blink in order to readjust his eyes. Bruce had given no indication that he had even noticed the sudden darkness.

Still frowning, Tony backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The next time Tony entered Bruce’s room, it was the middle of the afternoon and sunlight was streaming through the windows. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he opened the door, but it definitely wasn’t that Bruce would still be asleep, not this late in the day.

Only he was, and Tony stood in the doorway for a second processing that before stepping inside and walking over to the bed.

At some point during the night, Bruce had shifted so that he was curled in a ball, covered in a tangled blanket. He didn’t move at all as Tony approached, which was not like him at all--after his years on the run from the military, he tended to sleep light. Which usually translated to “Tony makes one creak on the floor and suddenly Bruce is awake.”

Today, though, Tony got so far as to sit down on the edge of Bruce’s bed without the latter moving a muscle. Definitely not normal.

“Hey,” Tony said quietly. “Just wondering why you hadn’t gotten up yet. Steve went out apartment-hunting again, which I am absolutely not offended by in case you’re wondering; and I have no idea where Barton and Romanoff went, but considering they were more heavily armed than your average helicarrier, I don’t think either of us want to know. So it was getting quiet around here, is basically what I’m saying.”

Bruce’s only response was to breathe out slowly, his eyes still shut.

Tony leaned back, his palms bracing himself against the bed. “And you’re not helping. You know that, right? The whole point of having you here is so I don’t get bored, and look at this.” Pepper had made that exact comment when Tony had first announced that “ _ surprise! We’re getting five new home invaders _ ,” and Tony’s only response then had been to sling an arm around Bruce’s shoulder and grin at her.

Again, nothing. Not that he was really surprised anymore.

“It would be a lot easier if you would wake up. People already think I talk to myself.”

More silence.

“Bru-uce.”

He’d thought using his name would at least spark  _ some  _ kind of waking-up process, but Tony might as well have been reciting the periodic table.

“Listen, the only reason I’m waking you up is because I know you said you had stuff you wanted to work on today and I do remember hearing something once about how it wasn’t a good idea to make you angry.”

Silence.

“... all righty then.” Tony reached over and shook Bruce’s shoulder a little. Was he imagining it, or had he suddenly tensed in his sleep? Encouraged, Tony repeated the action, and Bruce shifted around before opening his eyes with a groan.

He closed them again a second later and brought up a hand to rub at his face, finally blinking up at Tony. “Hmm?”

Tony smiled. “Morning, sunshine.”

Bruce made an unintelligible noise and pushed himself into a sitting position, the blanket falling off his shoulders and settling onto his lap. He still looked a little out of it, especially since one half of his hair was sticking up around his head and the other was flattened down from the pillow, but at least he was upright and semi-alert. By a loose definition, anyway.

“Do I wanna know why you’re in my room?” Bruce asked.

Tony rearranged himself so that he was sitting completely on the bed, facing Bruce. “What time do you think it is?”

“What?”

“Science question. What time?” Tony leaned over to the bedside table and covered up the alarm clock with his hand. “No cheating. Is there another clock in here?”

“Only on my phone…” Bruce rubbed his eyes again. “Um, maybe nine? Nine thirty?”

Tony did his best impression of the Operation you-accidentally-touched-the-funny-bone-to-the-metal-edge noise. “Twelve forty-six.” He lifted his hand from the alarm clock. “Correction: twelve forty-seven. You never sleep this late unless it’s the day after a mission.”  _ And we haven’t had one in weeks, and the last one where we needed the Hulk was even before that. _

“Oh. Sorry, I guess I’m just tired.”

Tony refrained from pointing out how that was stating the obvious while Bruce shrugged the rest of the blankets off and stood up, apparently wanting to prove that he was definitely awake now.

“One bonus of sleeping in your clothes is you don’t have to get dressed,” Tony observed as Bruce apparently came to the same conclusion. “So, do you want some very late breakfast? That you’ll probably have to make, I realize, unless you want, like, a piece of toast.”

Bruce shook his head. “I’m not actually that hungry. You want to go finish changing the repulsor blast radius for the suit?”

Tony jumped up. “I thought you’d never ask.” He gestured to the door as Bruce gave him an amused look. “Shall we?”

* * *

The lab was exactly as they had left it last night; which was to say, it was a mess.

It was easy to slide back into their work, picking up exactly where they had left off with only the sounds of tapping on the screens (the ones that weren’t holographic, anyway) and clanking of various metal pieces as Tony assembled his latest version: Mark XII, if this didn’t blow up in his face. And it rarely did anymore, except for that one time that Bruce was  _ not  _ allowed to tell Pepper about under any circumstances.

Building mechanical suits of armor wasn’t really Bruce’s area, so he’d been going over the data for his little anti-Hulk science experiment while Tony worked, both of them occasionally switching places to point out inconsistencies the other had missed--which, to be honest, didn’t happen that often, and was more just a chance for them to laugh at whatever each other had named their draft files, but all in the name of  _ brainstorming. _

About an hour in, Tony had finished calibrating the finger joints on the glove and was spinning around in his chair to show Bruce the gesture said finger joints were currently holding, when he was greeted with the sight of Bruce staring blankly at the holographic screen in front of him, his eyes unfocused.

“Hey, you with me, big guy?” Tony had the glove he was still holding snap its fingers, and Bruce startled.

“What? Oh.” Bruce glanced around the lab as though reminding himself where he was before his eyes settled back on the screen. He somehow still looked exhausted despite getting more hours of sleep the previous night than Tony got in a week. “I must’ve zoned out. Were you saying something?”

Tony turned the glove over in his hands. “Never mind.”

* * *

Tony wished he could say that that was the only occurrence of that particular event, but the next several days proved him wrong.

It wasn’t just sleeping practically all day or nearly passing out in the lab, although both of those things were still happening no matter how much Bruce kept pretending they weren’t. But, hey, that much could be shrugged off as normal, or at least normal for a couple of geniuses whose brains kicked into overdrive mode slightly above what was healthy.

No, it was other stuff. More concerning stuff.

One afternoon, the two of them had been making lunch--in the vaguest terms, which meant searching through the refrigerator for viable leftovers--and Bruce had opened the cupboard to get a bowl to reheat his in. 

And missed. Twice.

Tony had lowered his fork from where he’d been eating his own leftovers cold as Bruce stared at the shelf of dishes in complete bewilderment. Neither of them had moved for a long moment.

Wordlessly, Tony had set his container down and reached over to grab a bowl. He’d handed it to Bruce, whose face had heated slightly in a blush.

And then there had been yesterday morning, when Tony had been wandering the hallway arguing on the phone with Steve about what color tennis balls were supposed to be when he’d heard a loud  _ crash.  _ Given that the only other person in the Tower was Bruce, and Tony had heard the shower running two minutes earlier, he hadn’t had a wide array of theories as to where the sound had come from.

He’d backtracked down the hall until he was in front of the bathroom door, which had opened a few seconds later to reveal a wet-haired Bruce who had explained himself with a shrug and an “I slipped.”

Tony had muttered “I’ll call you back” to Steve and had just slipped his phone into his pocket when Bruce had added, “And, um, we need to get the radiation cleanup stuff because there’s kinda… blood.”

Tony’s jaw had clenched, but seeing the expression on Bruce’s face, he’d bit his tongue so hard he was surprised it hadn’t started bleeding as well.

And now Tony was fighting evil robots. Correction: he was fighting evil robots  _ in the sky _ , because of course these damn things could fly and wasn’t that all he needed today.

He dodged one and fired a repulsor beam at the other, slicing it into two halves that dropped to the ground--the ground very, very, far below--pulling back up just as he heard Rhodey’s voice through the coms.

“Four o’clock, Tony--it’s one of the big ones.”

“I’m gonna keep what you said in context,” Tony replied as the silvery gray shape of War Machine came zooming up from behind to fire on the robot that had indeed been lurking over his shoulder. “Also, are the red ones the ones that have lasers? Because I definitely saw one of them use a laser.”

“I thought that was you.”

They circled around each other, zooming up so that they were back to back and firing from both directions at once. The air filled with the screech of wrenching metal and the sparking of broken wires.

Tony revolved slowly, scanning the sky. They had temporarily cleared the immediate vicinity of flying murder robots, but he could already see more approaching from below. How many of these had that guy even made?

“So this was how you wanted to spend your day, right?” he asked.

He could practically hear Rhodey’s grin through the coms. “What, this? Beats being at that sponsor event.”

“Are you sure, though?” Another robot rocketed toward him and he shot out of the way. “I mean, I know it was a setup, but--” He fired a repulsor blast “--they had the good kind of ice cubes, the ones with the--” The robot was effectively blasted and crashed backward into another one, knocking them both out of the sky.  _ Here at the Avengers Initiative we pride ourselves on efficiency _ “--the little holes, you know what I’m talking about?”

“Nice to know that’s your requirement for villain of the day,” Rhodey said. War Machine raised his hands and a second later two more robots had blown up. “Me personally, I’d prefer it if they used something other than robots for once, but at least these ones seem pretty easy to kill.”

“And they don’t ooze out slime like the last ones.”

“Glad I missed that. Disgraced molecular biologist?”

“Pretty much.”

A cluster of robots appeared to the left, and Tony soared over to deal with them as Rhodey flew in the other direction. They were silent for a few beats, destroying robots as quickly as they popped up. And they just kept popping up. He’d fired at, what, twenty now?

Rhodey was the one to break the silence. “So, what’s it like in Avengers Tower these days?”

Tony didn’t miss the amused lilt given to two specific words in that sentence. “It’d be better if you were there.” They flew past each other again, two more robots down.

Rhodey laughed. “I think I’ll wait a little longer to see when  _ that _ blows up in your face.”

Tony grinned.

“Speaking of, how’s your shadow?”

Tony checked the corner of his display. “Bruce is asleep.”

“It’s… three in the afternoon? How late did you two stay up in that lab last night?” Rhodey might’ve gone on, but another robot swerved out of nowhere, forcing him to the side before he could spin around and destroy it. “I know I’ve had this conversation with you a million times--”

“Actually, this is different,” Tony admitted. “I’m kind of worried about him.”

“Is it about the Hulk?” Rhodey had met Bruce a few times by now, when Tony’d introduced him to the other Avengers. From what Tony could tell, they seemed to get along fairly well, especially when compared to Steve and Rhodey’s first meeting, when the first mention of the word “Lieutenant Colonel” had Steve instinctively saluting and then glaring at Tony as he spent the rest of the night on the floor barely able to breathe for laughter.

“Sort of.” Once Tony started talking, everything from the past few days seemed to spill out, just him and Rhodey and the murder robots. He hadn’t realized just how worried he’d been.

“... and now he’s just  _ exhausted _ , Rhodey, and I don’t even think he’s eaten anything since Tuesday.” Tony sliced another robot in half with a beam. “There’s a zero percent chance it’s not because of the tetrodotoxin, but knowing that doesn’t help.”

“Yes, it does.” Rhodey said it like it should be obvious. “You can talk to him about it. You pretty much have to, actually, it sounds like he’s being an idiot.”

“He  _ is _ ,” Tony agreed. “But it’s not that easy; he’s  _ really  _ attached to this. Have you ever tried to argue with Bruce Banner about anything? Because it is literally impossible; just the act of it makes me feel like a bad person.”

He could feel the look Rhodey must have been giving him through the helmets. “Tony--”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

“That, but also the robots are gone. That was the last one.” The War Machine helmet tilted in the direction of one last hunk of carcassed metal falling to the ground.

Tony blinked. “Really?”

“Unless your sensors are showing something different.”

“Nope.” Tony gazed around at the now-empty sky, waiting for the usual post-battle weight to settle on his shoulders, but he still felt exactly the same level of stress. Small blessings. 

The side of War Machine’s face appeared in his peripheral vision. “Race you back.”

“Oh, you’re  _ kidding! _ ” Tony shut his helmet again and shot after Rhodey, who was already way ahead, the cheater. 

He quickly made up the distance, but Rhodey pulled ahead.

“You’ve picked the  _ wrong _ fight, baby,” Tony called out. “This is a flip phone against an iPhone 5 and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Rhodey called back. “Can’t hear you from all the way back there!” He drew slightly further ahead; his boots were now parallel to the tip of Tony’s helmet.

Tony grinned and dialed up his thrusters. “Bring it on, sourpatch.”

It was the fastest commute New York City had ever seen.

* * *

Rhodey only spent a few minutes at the Tower before he had to go (“Unlike you, I actually acknowledge my schedule, and fighting evil murder robots cuts down on spare time.” “Fine, but next time you’re here, we are totally giving your suit an upgrade. Otherwise it’s embarrassing if you keep fighting next to me.” “Love you too, Tony”), leaving Tony to send a few quick messages explaining about the explosions and Iron Man and War Machine sightings that people were starting to go crazy about now that the action itself was over and donate some money for cleanup before he went to check on Bruce.

He didn’t have to go far; Bruce was coming down the stairs at the same time Tony turned around. Both of them were caught off guard momentarily when they spotted the other one, but that only lasted a second.

“You missed all the fun,” Tony announced. “Remember that sponsor event I said I was going to? Never mind, I don’t actually think I told you about that because I almost forgot about it myself--and I should have, because the only other invitees happened to be murderous flying robots that  _ dented my chestplate _ , how very rude.” He motioned to the armor that was now folded up in suitcase form at his feet.

“I know, it was on the news.” Bruce was on the bottom step of the stairs, but he seemed hesitant to go any further, keeping a grip on the railing. “Did everything end up okay? Rhodey, too?”

“Pff. What do you take me for. I’m--”

“Tony Stark?” Bruce’s mouth twitched into what would have been a grin had he not been so weighed down by exhaustion. His death grip on the railing seemed to be all that was keeping him upright, and his eyes kept fluttering half-closed. 

“I was gonna say Iron Man, but you know what? Point.” Tony eyed Bruce for another second before he decided he couldn’t keep  _ not _ saying something. “Speaking of, it would’ve been nice to have a Hulk today.”

Bruce gave him a wary look. “I’m not so sure, considering he can’t fly.”

“Details. We could’ve worked something out.”

“Tony--”

“Look, I think you should get rid of this suppressant,” Tony finally said, because he was not good at dodging around sticky topics and really, why should he? Bruce looked like he was about to fall over and he was still insisting everything was fine. “Just trash it. Or chemical-waste-disposal it, or whatever you have to do.”

Bruce went to fold his arms, but swayed when he let go of the railing and had to grab it again. “I’m not going to do that.”

“I could say please?”

“This is the only thing that works--and it’s a hell of a lot better than just hoping for the best every day.”

“Newsflash, Bruce, that’s how all of us live our lives.” Tony’s foot brushed his suitcase-armor, and he realized he’d taken a step forward by accident. “And it’s not even about that--this thing isn’t just weakening the Hulk, it’s weakening you, and don’t insult my intelligence by denying it.”

“I’ve handled worse.” Bruce lifted his head. He was sagging more and more against the railing with every word he spoke. “If this is what has to happen so that every time we have a mission or something explodes in the lab or I close my eyes to go to sleep I don’t have to worry that the Other Guy is going to destroy everything around me, then yeah, I think I’m okay with that.”

“So, what?” Tony asked bluntly. “You’re just gonna keep putting something into your body that’s going to kill you? Can’t you understand why I might have some bad associations with that?”

His T-shirt was sweaty from being in the suit for so long, clinging to his chest and causing the arc reactor to shine through like a blue beacon.

“I can’t die,” Bruce said quietly.

“What the fuck do you think is going to happen if your heart rate gets to… JARVIS?”

“No, don’t--”

Bruce started to step toward Tony, but stumbled, and the next second he was sliding down to the floor, his eyes closed and back against the wall.

Tony was there in a second, kneeling down and reaching for Bruce’s shoulder. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?” Dumb question, but he was still hoping for a “yes.”

Bruce’s eyelids opened a sliver. “‘M’fine,” he whispered, and then slumped to the side.

_ Strike that.  _

“Bruce?” Tony shook him, gently. No response. Just like every other time the past few mornings when Bruce had been impossible to wake up, but different this time, different--he wasn’t breathing. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving and he wasn’t breathing and Tony couldn’t feel a heartbeat and  _ oh god _ \--

“Shit, Bruce, I swear--” Tony stopped. Felt for a pulse again. Nothing. “Shit. Shit.”

He jumped to his feet and turned in a panicked circle, scanning the room. Nothing. There was nothing here. Nobody else. Nothing. Nothing but him and Bruce.

_ This would be the absolute worst way to win an argument. _

“Shit,” he said again, and then he remembered. “JARVIS--JARVIS, can you--”

“Sir, Doctor Banner is still alive.” The A.I.’s voice answered almost the moment the words were out of Tony’s mouth, and he felt a rush of relief. “However, his heart rate has slowed to one beat per minute and it is unlikely that he will remain stable this way.”

“Okay, okay, we can work with that.” Tony ran his hand back and forth through his hair, his eyes darting back to Bruce like they were magnetized. “Tell me what to do--there’s no way a doctor would be able to get here, and S.H.I.E.L.D. is fucking S.H.I.E.L.D., and the rest of the team--”

JARVIS cut off Tony’s rambling, and he was suddenly glad he’d given the A.I. the ability to do that. “Since time is of the essence, I would suggest using the emergency defibrillator located in the hall.”

“We have one of those?” JARVIS left a pointed silence as his only response, and Tony’s mind connected. “Right. Guy with heart condition. Okay.”

He didn’t think he’d ever moved so fast in his life; out into the hall and back with the AED they apparently had tucked around the corner. He knelt down next to the unmoving Bruce and set up the device. It beeped and lit up, coming to life.

“Clear,” Tony muttered to the empty room, and pressed the defibrillator to Bruce’s chest.

Bruce gasped, his eyes flying open--flying open  _ green _ \--and then the Hulk was there, surging to his feet, and Tony scrambled backwards to avoid getting slammed with a giant fist.

“Sir, I would advise that--” JARVIS’s voice was nearly drowned out by the roar that shook the room.

“Way ahead of you, J,” Tony muttered, already closing the hallway door behind him. He had been ready to try out some of his latest ideas for calming the Hulk down, but the Hulk didn’t exactly seem like he was in the mood for friendship bracelets. Tony winced as the floor shook with another roar.

The door was see-through, so Tony could turn around and watch, but all the Hulk was doing was stomping around the room and ripping up whatever furniture or piece of wall he bumped into. Being very loud about it, yes, but he didn’t look like he was going to crash through the windows and cause what would be a  _ serious  _ traffic problem just yet.

“He’s trying to find where the danger is,” Tony murmured, pressing a hand against the door. Bruce would yell at him later for staying so close-- _ Bruce was alive! Yes! _ \--but there was something fascinating about watching something that was supposed to be so separate from anything human and then  _ understanding _ its emotions, its motivations.

_ Hey, the motivation to stop Bruce Banner from dying is something I can get behind.  _

Tony didn’t know how long he stood there before his pocket started to vibrate and he remembered what he’d been doing before his argument with Bruce. He pulled his phone out, prepared to fend off a thousand questions about the flying murder robots, but froze with his finger hovering above the screen when he saw the contact name under “Incoming Call.”

“JARVIS, is this for real?” He didn’t bother to lower his voice; if the Hulk hadn’t been bothered by his presence up to this point, he probably wasn’t ever going to be. 

“Indeed. S.H.I.E.L.D. is notified whenever there is an incident regarding Doctor Banner’s other half.”

“... fucking why?”

“You made that the protocol whenever the Hulk makes an appearance and there are fewer than two other Avengers present at the Tower, sir.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.” Tony swiped to answer the call and held the phone up to his ear, still watching the Hulk through the door. “Hey, Fury. Everything’s good here.”

Fury’s voice came from the other end of the call, skipping over the greeting entirely. “Is Banner currently transformed into the Hulk?”

Tony held the phone so it could pick up the sound of roaring. “Yep.”

“Then everything is not good. Care to explain?”

“He’s just dealing with some stuff,” Tony said as the Hulk punched the side of the staircase. “You know how it goes. It might be a little messy, but that’s one thing being a billionaire is good for.”

There was the sound of sighing from the other end of the phone, and Tony got a distinct image of Fury sitting in his office, rubbing the bridge of his forehead. “Can you tell me what triggered the transformation?”

“I don’t know, I guess I should’ve listened when he told me to turn my music down--”

“Stark.”

“He’s been developing a new way to suppress the Hulk. Tetrodotoxin B. It kinda worked but also kind of not.”

“I’m leaning towards ‘not,’ considering the current situation.”

“Yeah, I see where you’re coming from.” Tony tapped a finger absently against the door. “It also slowed his heart rate down to one beat per minute and almost killed him, so I think we can conclude it failed.”

“One beat per minute?”

Tony winced. “It’s as bad as you’re imagining.”

Fury paused, apparently thinking. “You’re going to have to give more details about this drug, Stark. If it had that kind of effect on Banner, imagine what it could do to an ordinary--”

Tony wasn’t really listening; his attention had been caught by something far more important. Inside the room, the Hulk had finally gotten bored and was flopping down in the middle of the wrecked floor. A moment later, the first tinges of green began retreating from his skin and he started to shrink.

“Yeah, can I put you on hold?” Tony interrupted whatever Fury was saying. “Great. See ya.”

He shoved his phone in his pocket, ignoring the little Steve in his head that said  _ He’s the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Tony _ and headed back into the room, reaching the Hulk just as he was not quite so much the Hulk anymore. 

The Hulk was shifting, shrinking, his skin lightening until what was definitely Bruce Banner lay on the floor in a pair of mostly destroyed gray pants. He struggled to sit up as Tony beelined for him.

Tony couldn’t speak for a few seconds, which was a first, but it was also a first for him to have to shock his friend awake after they had passed out and almost died as a side effect of an untested big-green-alter-ego-suppressing drug, so it was really a banner day when he looked at it like that. 

He sat down on the floor and took in the sight of Bruce, who was peering around in confusion but was still more alert than he’d been in days. The Hulk had probably burned whatever was left of the suppressant out of his system, leaving him with just the regular post-transformation fatigue. 

Bruce blinked, his mind apparently taking in the sight of Tony in front of him and putting it into focus. Once he did, his face relaxed into a shy smile. “So, uh. I guess I see why you were worried now.”

Tony wasn’t aware of acting; he just leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Bruce, who gave an “Ack” but didn’t protest any further.

“Never do that again,” Tony said fiercely. 

There was a beat, and then he felt Bruce slowly return the hug.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
